Written.

Thursday, 17 July 2014

-

I open the window to still hear the noise, this time louder as if it knows me approaching and the children get louder and a ice cream van is heard. It’s one a.m. again, with me tumbling lightly from the walking I’ve done before and how it seemed fitting to just pack my bags and sometimes trips begin to take you in, doors unlocked,

it’s like sand rattling and the children should be asleep, roosters already reminding me that I’ve left everything for Lisbon, just because break ups get the best of you, SIM card taken out and e-mail once a day becoming the sole food for the thought of home.

It’s not even that I can smoke in the apartment, as the roosters get louder, as if daylight would come soon and it’s been a while since it had left.

Sand tingling, all noises mechanic and giving an eerie sense of something supernatural, when frankly ghosts don’t exist unless someone is throwing hands up in the air and saying ‘woooo’ only in a more frightful matter.

“Fuck off.” I hiss and the noises get louder, people talking just to reassure me that no ghosts exist and I have no cross, no garlic and bloodshot eyes from a break up. I cough. It’s getting late and what I presume to be the sprinklers playing on my lost soul and the children cease to exist and my only resolution is to try tomorrow. I go to sleep, alone, spreading my body as much as I can, just to feel the empty spaces he’s left me with.

The next morning I’m just left alone and the only thing I seem to do is go outside, stock up on some food and crawl back in.

Yes, it’s ok to spend a day inside, inside where I don’t see his face.

I open the ice cream cake, musing for a bit on what to watch or rather distract myself with, the noises and the dark luring me lightly. It’s far too early for the dark and I’m guessing the noise would come back again at the same time since it’s been the same yesterday and the day before, at one a.m. which is a bit unusual since it’s always midnight and then it’s quite strong at five. I put a spoonful in my mouth, wondering if I will have the guts to exit and see the source of the noise. I didn’t bump into any neighbors and the prospective of knocking on someone else’s door is just as appealing as replying to the inbox.

The one second I turn on the phone I get a phone call and I nearly pick it up and I know it would be filled with a bunch of apologies and offerings of staying in touch, which seems disasterous and I had left, saying to clear absolutely everything which was his before I come back, because I wanted to come back to the house which he had once walked in.

Counting the hours to the weird noise just makes me more depressed as I keep watching movie after movie, holding my eyes open, depression giving me exhaustion as I wonder how much more and once it’s midnight I nearly feel like crying on the floor, recalling how he had walked out, saying that he had found someone else, that it just clicked and how bleak I seemed.

I light a cigarette, not even having enough strength to go outside and in half an hour, it’s over, the silence is graced by the children, the ice cream van and the laughter. As I stand up and slowly walk over to the window, I wonder if a staircase would await me, but instead I just hear it louder, the hissing, as if time would pass and water is no longer in the equation. I grab a cardigan, pulling it on as I head out, past the communist utopia graffiti and I slowly feel fear upon my tongue as I just make a mental note to head towards the odd monument with the beaten up tombstones around it with a fence and that’s when I see a bunch of blur at first I just feel the shiver, how it passes, as if the children were arriving and then as I walk, towards the pond, upper on the stairs, the pond is all dipped in dark and the birds seem to be laying dead-

and then I see a head turn to look in my direction.

All the noises stop and then the sprinkler bursts with a bunch of white emerging all of a sudden, the sand, the sprinkler, all start yelling in their own noises, the children show up transparent, chasing after each other and the man himself seems to be dipped in air.

I glance at the pond scared to see the weird geese with red bloody beaks lay with their wings as if crucified and I can feel the man’s presence but he just sits there.

And all of a sudden, I have a desire to leave, as I put my hands in my pockets and I turn just to find children running in a firm line behind me. The man watches me, his eyes red and hair quite messily arranged, dressed far too warm for a summer night with a plaid overcoat.

Once I turn to look at him in the eye, he smiles and the children stop and vanish, leaving dusts of light and the birds vibrate lightly. The ghost bites his tongue lightly, smirking before laughing and all bursts again only with more children and this time the sprinklers are on me, the water a bit too stinging and I’m not shaking from the cold and the man wants to yank me out of there but his hands go through mine and I feel where he went through go numb, just that region and I look at him, as he smiles and steps back.

I wipe my eyes from the water, as morning comes and daylight spins on me and I start coughing, all my body aching as people walk with Pingo Doce bags and look at my clothing which is now torn around the hem lightly as if with scissors, my body registering nothing besides a sense of leaving, which I do, back to the apartment.

I sleep on the couch, window open to see my phone flashing 1 p.m.

-

I haven't written a proper horror story in… ages? xD And last one was Used Lighter as Bar Eyes is lighter. And it pretty much happened when I was sleepy and I heard this odd noise and me and Callie were holding from speaking of it and then we sacredly decided it's a sparkler and now the noise is clearer and our fear is less, but it's a sprinkler xD we're near this park thing and the story pretty much takes place in roughly the apartment we have now with the park nearby. Callie actually offered today to photo me in the location I imagined Jamie to be xD

I had the idea and I was musing which characters to use and Jamie seemed the perfect eerie character but I wanted someone lighter than Al and I kept musing and musing and pretty much decided to use someone I've never really used before and yeah, here he is xD So it's quite a pretty much bizarre pairing coz I've never really seen any Nick Grimshaw/Jamie Hince fanfiction and let alone horror AUs. But they're friends and that always goes a long way online xD

It's not that the place is scary but pretty much everything I see is exaggerated and chucked into the story xD

All locations are accurate and odd xD

I was thinking of a title which seemed fitting and frankly '-' seemed accurate as my mind was blank and I guess I just pronounce it as nothing rather than dash, when it is a dash xD so it's more of the fact that there is no title, not that it's not untitled, it just ceases to exist.

I hope you enjoyed it because I'm really nervous about this piece as I missed writing horror and the story is quite creepy xD

Please tell me if you enjoyed it so I'll be more confident in the next chapter where things just get creepier :D yay for creepy Hincey xD

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Writing just seems to be the form where examples are the simplest and situations the realest.

My frustration is the fuel which my characters face and just limiting the value of my writing to good prose is Kubrick cutting the end of A Clockwork Orange to make a shallow movie about violence.

My work is my anger and everyone's anger at ignorance at those who will limit anyone to the background.

The further work is not about love, love is the aid to get us through society which we've created, born into and have to struggle with every day.

And love is the fuel, the fuel to the anger which I have to bear for being queer and deviant.

And I am not a love story. I am not something to cry over. I am something which should make you realize if you are at a privileged position that you should make a change, if you are discriminated, that you are not alone, that we should all have this fuel and should never just be limited to love.

Because our anger is valid.

We became our anger, so that the love will not only nourish us now, but later when all is done and we are no longer deviant to a society who hates itself.

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I do not own any of the character, band or other names based off real persons and groups; they served only as inspiration for my characters in the stories, whose rights I own. The works published herein and elsewhere by me are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to real life events is merely coincidental. No libel or slander is intended.